More Than Meets the Eye
by NefariousEnvy
Summary: Unlike everyone else in District 12, Katniss believes that there is more to Haymitch than just a drunk. When Katniss volunteers for Prim in the 74th Hunger Games, she finds out that there is a lot more to Haymitch Abernathy than meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1

**More Than Meets the Eye**

**Chapter 1**

I am in district 12 and the reaping for the 74th Hunger Games is about to take place. It is Prim's first year to be in the reaping bowl because she just turned twelve. She is afraid she will be selected as the female tribute for District 12. She had a nightmare last night about that. She won't be picked though. If anything, I am more likely to be picked than she is. I hope that doesn't happen. The only good that could come of such a horrible event would be meeting Haymitch Abernathy. I have always wanted to meet him. He may be a drunk, but there is more to him than that. I'm not sure what, but I know he is more to him than what people see. People see him as a deadbeat, but I see him as a strong man who survived the Hunger Games. This is how I know he is more than just a drunk.

The reaping is now starting. First, we watch this stupid video from the Capitol about why we have the Hunger Games every year (as if we need reminding). I hate how they say "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" There is nothing happy about the games. The only people who think so are people from the Capitol. This is entertainment for them. It's sick. If it wasn't mandatory that we watch every year, I wouldn't do it. I guess I could go to a different part of the house, but that wouldn't do any good. Well it's not a house, it is more like a shack. It is small and cramped and the sound carries throughout the house. It has 2 bedrooms. Prim and I share a room and my mom occupies the 2nd bedroom that is on the other side of the shack. It's not much, but to me, it is my home and I don't particularly mind. I don't need much and I can do what needs to be done. As for the odds being in my favor, my name is in 15 times this year because I have been signing up for tesserae since I was 12 so I could feed myself, my mom, and Prim. To receive tesserae, my name is put in the reaping bowl an additional 3 times per year. It is cumulative, so it just keeps adding up. The odds aren't exactly in my favor. Prim is now old enough to sign up for tesserae, but I won't let her. The tesserae I receive is not enough to feed my family, though. To feed my family, I hunt in the woods outside the fence of District 12. I'm fairly good with a bow. Before my father died, he taught me how to hunt and gather various plants and other things that could be used for food. I typically go to the woods once a week with my friend Gale. I met Gale one day while hunting when I was 11. My father had recently died in a mining accident and I had to take care of my family. My mom was too depressed to pull herself together, much less take care of me and Prim. It is a good thing that I knew how to hunt because we would have starved if I didn't. I wasn't old enough to receive tesserae, so we didn't have anything to eat. Gale is in the same situation as I am. His dad died in the same mining accident as my dad. That is why he hunts. His mother takes care of him and his siblings unlike my mom. We both know if we were ever caught by peacekeepers, we would be killed or worse. For most people, nothing is worse than death. As for me, while I don't want to die, there are worse things that could happen. If anything happened to Prim or someone else I care about, that would be much worse than death. The peacekeepers in 12 are relaxed and they buy the animals I kill and don't object to my illegal hunting activities. The fence around the district is electrically charged and one zap could kill you. But it is never on, which makes hunting possible without the worry of being electrocuted.

After the end of the film from the Capitol, Effie Trinket is preparing to draw the person's name that will be this year's female tribute for district 12. Like every other year, I am holding my breath. I look around in the crowd surrounding me and find Prim. I give her, what I hope, is a reassuring smile. The next thing I hear is Effie Trinket announcing the female tribute for this year's Hunger Games.

"Primrose Everdeen!" She says excitedly. The world stands still and my heart skips a few beats. I must have heard wrong. I'm just anxious and I am probably daydreaming of the worst thing imaginable. It can't be real. She didn't actually say Prim's name. I look around and see Prim walking up to the stage. It is real. My baby sister is going to be this year's tribute. Before I have time to process what I am doing, I find myself running towards Prim and screaming her name. Peacekeepers try to stop me and I struggle as I try to get to Prim. Next thing I know I am yelling.

"I volunteer, I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" Everything goes quiet as if the world has stopped and time stands still. Everyone is staring with shocked looks on their faces. Nobody has ever volunteered for someone in District 12 before. Not even family members.

"It seems as though we have a volunteer." Effie says with disbelief. It sounds more like a question than a statement. As I walk up to the stage to take Prim's place, I notice everyone's eyes are fixed on me. I am now on the stage standing next to Effie.

"Let's have a round of applause for our first volunteer!" Effie exclaims in her irritatingly happy voice. Instead of clapping, the residents of 12 put 3 fingers to their lips and put them up in the air directed towards me. There is silence at this gesture that signifies respect in our district. I am touched by this sign. It is not a sign that is seen very often. Nothing needs to be said, no applause to be given; this action expresses all that needs to be said and more.

That is when I see Haymitch. He is a little late to the reaping and he is plastered. He gets up on the stage next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. A shiver runs through my body and I'm not sure why. He smells of liquor, soap, and maybe something like smoky mesquite wood burning in a warm fire. Surprisingly, this smells nice. It doesn't overpower the stench of the booze, but I focus on these other scents that come off of him. His hand is warm on my shoulder and it feels good, and for some reason, safe.

"I like this one. She may be a winner!" he says slurring his words. He then proceeds to almost fall off the stage. Because he has his arm around my shoulders, I pull him back before he hits the ground. We both fall on the stage with me on top of him. We hastily get up and not even a full second has passed. In that split second, we made eye contact and I saw his grey seam eyes. His eyes are oddly mesmerizing. They are, in their own way, beautiful and warm. We get up so quickly that I don't have time to process what I think I just saw. His eyes are now cold and steel grey. I know now that I must have been imagining things.

The next name to be called is Peeta Mellark's. He will be the male tribute who will represent District 12 in this year's Hunger Games. I recognize Peeta as the boy who threw me half a loaf of burnt bread a few years ago when he saw me by a tree looking hungry on the verge of death. He purposefully burned the bread, which earned him a hard smack from his mother. He went outside to feed the burnt bread to the pigs, but he threw me the rest of the burnt loaf when his mother wasn't looking. He saved my life and those of my family. I only knew him as the boy with the bread until now. I am in debt to him and I don't know how or if I can ever repay him. I can't kill him. My only hope is that someone else will. I can't leave Prim alone though. But, if it did come down to the two of us, I would have no choice. However unlikely that may be, I have to mentally prepare myself for the possibility that it might.

When Prim comes to say goodbye to me, I promise her that I will try to win for her. I don't think I have a chance in hell of succeeding, but I have to at least try. Gale also comes to see me. He tells me to get to a bow and I protest that they probably won't have a bow. He says that they will if I show them how good I am with a bow and that they just want a good show. I realize he is right. He tells me if they don't have a bow then I should make one. I know how to make a bow but not like my father could. Besides, when will I have the time to make a bow? I will be too busy trying not to get killed. We hug each other goodbye before a peacekeeper comes in telling us our time is up. Madge, the mayor's daughter also comes in to see me. We're not exactly best friends, but she is nice and we used to play together when we were little. She gives me a pin of a mockingjay. She asks me to wear it in the arena to represent our district. I agree and thank her. After all my visitors have come and gone, I am put on the train that will take me to the Capitol and eventually, my death.

**A/N: This is my second fanfiction. I hope you like it and I would appreciate feedback so I can know if I should keep writing this story. I thought I could give you something else to read. I also wanted to share this idea to see if it is any good. School is starting tomorrow and I probably won't be able to update as frequently. However, I am going to do my best to update fairly regularly. So, tell me what you think and I will try to keep updating as much as time permits. I do not own The Hunger Games or any of the characters. That ownership belongs to the talented and amazing author, Suzanne Collins. Also, if there are spelling or grammar errors, please feel free to correct me.**

**-NefariousEnvy**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Haymitch's POV**

My name is Haymitch Abernathy and I live in District 12. I am a Victor, a mentor, a drunk, and a broken human being. I am alone in this world. I lost everyone I love 24 years ago after I won the 25th Hunger Games. I threw an axe into a force field and I killed the last tribute. I can't even remember her name anymore; yet, I can still remember the shocked look on her face when she realized she had lost, that I had killed her. At the time, I didn't know that the capitol would take away from me everything and everyone I held dear: my family and my girlfriend. I used their game against them without even realizing it. I was at the end of the arena, where I found a force field. When I heard someone behind me, I threw the axe I had into the force field, and when it came back up like a boomerang, it got lodged deep in the girl's skull. I had won, or so I thought. In the technical sense, I guess I had won. I had survived the Hunger Games. The Capitol saw my use of the force field as an act of defiance. When my family and girlfriend were killed, I wished I _had_ died in that arena. That was 24 years ago, and since then, I have had to mentor kids for the last 23 years and watch 46 kids go to their deaths; for which I was responsible. In order to try and deal with the pain brought on by my _victory_, I have found what little solace I could at the end of a bottle. Well, several bottles actually. This is my 24th year serving as District 12's mentor; a mentor that kills kids.

This year, however, may be different. The two tributes for this year's Hunger Games are Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. Katniss volunteered in the place of her younger sister, Primrose Everdeen. She is the first volunteer for District 12 in the history of the Hunger Games. This one is different from all the other tributes I've mentored. She is brave and strong. That is not the only reason for this assessment, though. Katniss is quite skilled with a bow and she is the reason why her family and many of the people in District 12, are still alive. She hunts animals and trades them at the Hob for other goods. She may have a chance at surviving this year's Hunger Games. Maybe I can help save one life. Well, not really save, but rather condemn to a life of hell. Still, she is one less person I might have to watch die. In a way, that is comforting. This is not a certainty, but I have to at least try. However, there is another reason I want to keep this girl alive; I can't help but admire here. She is like me and I have never seen anyone else like her before. I hate to admit this, even to myself, but I care about Katniss Everdeen, dangerous as it may be. However, she cannot know that I care.

The train is about to leave, and that is when I see her, my first look at a potential _Victor_. Our eyes meet, and for the first time in a long time, my heart skips a beat. I don't know what this means, so I dismiss it. It probably means nothing. I'm just hopeful that I might get someone out of the arena alive. When she looks at me she has this look in her eyes; they have a stone cold hardness to them. She is more like me than I thought. I know that look only too well. The look in her eyes is the same one I see every day in the mirror. They are just like mine.

**AN: I haven't updated this story in a while and I'm sorry. I've been so busy. I know this is a really short chapter, but I hope you like it. I will try to make the next chapter longer. I'm not sure when that will be. Do you guys want me to keep writing this story? What do you think? Please review if you want me to keep going.**

**-NefariousEnvy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Katniss's POV**

I'm on the train and I just saw Haymitch seconds before boarding. We didn't say anything to one another, we just exchanged a glance. His eyes were sad and at the same time happy. I don't know what to make of that. I am thinking about this, when I notice Peeta is talking to me.

"Katniss…Katniss."

"What?" I ask as I come back to the present.

"Hi, my name is Peeta Mellark."

"I know you. You're the bakers' son."

"Yeah, I am. So, how are you doing?" I'm silent and I stare out the window of the train where everything is a blur. This train is moving so fast that I can't see anything.

"Not much of a talker, I see," Peeta says.

"I just don't see the point being as one of us might have to kill the other." I know I'm being an asshole, but I don't want to get to know Peeta more than I already do. He threw me a loaf of bread and I won't ever be able to repay him. The least I can do is to distance myself from him. I don't want to kill him and if we get to know each other, that will just make that harder when and if the time comes.

"Ok," he says as he stands up and walks away. A few minutes pass before Haymitch walks into the compartment. He nods in my direction before he heads to a table that has food and liquor. And, of course, he goes for the liquor.

"So, when do we start training?" I ask Haymitch. He looks surprised and slightly irritated by my question.

"Where's the ice?" he asks.

"I have no idea. When do we start training?" I ask again with a bit of an edge to my voice.

"Are you really in that much of a hurry to die, Sweetheart?" He says with bitterness in his tone.

"No, quite the opposite!" I spit out angrily.

"Wow, are you always this friendly? You won't last long in the Games, so I see no point in wasting my breath on you, Sweetheart!" His voice is dripping with sarcasm and he has this smug smile on his face, the bastard.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" My voice is raised and I'm ready to punch him in the face.

"Oh, am I hurting your feelings, Sweetheart?" he asks, taking another drink.

"Stop calling me that!" I yell. I'm so angry that I get up and knock his drink out of his hand. His eyes go wide with shock, which quickly turns to anger. I guess I really struck a nerve, because he gets in my face. His breath smells strongly of alcohol. Surprisingly, I like the smell. He may be an asshole, but he is a strangely alluring asshole.

"You want to know how to survive? You get people to like you. That is how you get sponsors, and seeing as you have as much charm as a dead possum, you won't last a day, Sweetheart!," he snarls. I am about to slap him, when he catches my wrist and pushes me against the wall. We are close, pressed against each other, and we are both angry. I am completely taken by surprise and I don't know what to do, so without thinking, I do the only thing I can think of; I kiss him hard and rough. He puts his hands on my face to push back, but I grab the back of his head with my free hand and bite his lip in an effort to keep him here and kissing me. I don't know why I'm doing this, but I don't want it to stop. I expect him to try to pull back again, but instead, he surprises me for the second time as he kisses me back.

**AN: Hope you like the chapter. Tell me what you think and please review.**

**-NefariousEnvy**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Haymitch's POV**

Two weeks have passed and I have my interview prep with Katniss today. I am way too sober to handle this. One thing I do know is that I need to set things straight between us. The incident on the train can't happen again. For one, she is way too young and I am old enough to be her father. Second, I am her mentor and nothing more, and lastly, if this happens again, I will start to care about her more than I already do, which is dangerous to begin with. Not just for me, but for her. The only way not to lose Katniss is to push her away and make it clear that I want nothing to do with her. That way she can go into the arena with a clear head; not confused about where we stand. There is no we, no us, we're nothing. I am her mentor and she is my mentee. It has to be that way because I can't be responsible for her death, even if it means hurting myself to do it. I don't even know how I feel about her. I need to focus on how I am going to help Katniss to do well in her interview so I can get her sponsors. With the way she is now, she won't get any sponsors and without sponsors she won't survive the games.

Katniss will be here in an hour and I have to come up with something. The only things she has going for her right now are that she volunteered for her sister and her training score. While her high score may look good to the audience, it is likely to make her a target in the arena. Especially for the careers; they will see her as a threat and will try to kill her as soon as possible. As for her sister, I'm sure the audience will eat that up. They will love that. Maybe that can help her even more than her high score. Actually, I'm sure of it. As long as she doesn't act like her usual self, she should do ok. Not great, but maybe ok. Unfortunately, to accomplish anything with her I will have to be mostly sober. I won't be any use to her if I'm sloshed. I have to be just sober enough to give her some advice. Even that, is too sober.

An hour later I hear a knock on the door. I don't get up to let her in. I just tell her the door is unlocked. She looks around for a while as she looks for a place to sit. Finally, she settles on the couch.

"Wow, this is absolutely abhorrent."

"Well, hello to you too, Sweetheart." I'm irritated and my voice is even more sarcastic than usual.

"Why am I here?"

"You're here so we can come up with a plan for your interview this evening with Ceasar Flickerman."

"Well, what do you have in mind, mentor?" she says bitterly. Well I guess I'm not the only one who is irritated. Maybe she is angry about that day on the train. Should I bring that up? No, I should pretend like it never happened. If she brings it up then I will try to derail the conversation. I wouldn't know what to say anyway.

"I was thinking that the only thing that might get you sponsors is if you talk about your sister."

"Why?"

"Well let's face it Sweetheart, you're not the most likeable person."

"Fuck you!"

"If that's what you want, Sweetheart."

"You're disgusting, you know that?"

"Yes, I know. Now, what do you plan to say in your interview this evening?"

"I don't know."

"That's not a good answer. Do you want to die?"

"What do you care?"

"I don't."

"Well then what am I doing here?" There is a long silence as I decide how to respond to this.

"You're here because I have to make it look like I give a damn about your survival."

"You just said that you don't. If that is true, then why am I really here? And why did you kiss me on the train?

"Actually Sweetheart, you kissed me and threw yourself at me like a horny Seam girl."

"You kissed me back, which makes you a pervert."

"Well I…" I am at a loss for words. She's right, I did kiss her back and I don't know what to say. I could try to say she imagined the whole thing and that I would never do such a thing. Say that would only happen in her dreams. Yeah, but the thing is, it has happened in mine. But I can't tell her that.

"Don't try to deny it, Haymitch!"

"Fine, I won't. What do you want from me, Katniss?"

"I want an answer. Why did you kiss me back and why am I here if you don't care if I live or die?"

"I want to finally mentor a victor. And I think you might have what it takes to make that happen. So, I guess, in a way, I want you to live."

"So you are just using me to make yourself look good? You're a cold-hearted bastard."

"That's original," I say as I roll my eyes. "Tell me something I don't know, Sweetheart."

"You're a killer. You've murdered children for the last 25 years. If I do win, it won't be because of you and I will make sure everybody knows it. I'm not going to help you look good. Even if I wanted to make you look good, I couldn't because you have so much blood on your hands. And not to mention, you're a despicable drunk!"

"GET OUT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT! I DIDN'T KILL THOSE KIDS! YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T WANT TO HELP YOU! IN FACT, I HOPE YOU DIE! YOU'RE HOPELESS ANYWAY! "

"I WAS JUST LEAVING. I DON'T WANT TO BE IN YOU PRESSENCE. YOU'RE A DISGUSTING, PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING! I HOPE YOU DROWN IN YOUR BOOZE! AND IF I'M HOPELESS, THEN WHAT DOES THAT MAKE YOU? YOU'RE A FUCK UP AND YOU HAVE NOTHING! YOU'RE TOXIC. NO WONDER WHY THE CAPITOL KILLED YOUR FAMILY!"

"GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!"

I'm so angry I could tear this whole place apart. Who does she think she is, calling me a killer? As if I wanted all those kids to die. As if I don't feel bad enough about the last 25 years. Even so, however angry I am at her, I still have to ensure her victory. She can't die. I didn't mean anything I just said, but I had to say it. Liking me would mean her death. I could care less about mentoring a victor. I just want her to live, even if that means making her hate me.

Ten minutes later I hear another knock on the door. Thinking that it's Katniss, I yell, "What do you want?"

"I'm here for my interview practice. Did I get the time wrong?"

Realizing it's Peeta, I open the door and tell him to come in.

"No, you didn't get the time wrong, I just lost track of time." I leave out the part about my recent encounter with Katniss.

"Why do you look so upset?"

"I need a drink," I lie. "Do you want a drink?"

"No thank you, I'm fine. So, what's the plan?"

"I'm not sure. You have charm going for you. When you waved at the crowd upon our arrival in the Capitol, you made quite an impression. The audience will want to know all about you. Tell them about yourself: maybe something a little personal."

"Something personal?"

"Tell them something about back home. Tell them about your family and the things or people that tie you to district 12. Whether it's family, friends, girlfriend, boyfriend…"

"No, no boyfriend! I'm not…"

"I'm just messin' with you, kid. Lighten up." I laugh a little at his expense.

"Ha ha, yeah," he says with a half-hearted laugh. "Funny, I get it. Good one."

"So, what are you planning to say? Maybe you could talk about how it feels to know you may have to kill someone from your district. Assuming you know Katniss. Well, even if you don't maybe you still have some thoughts on the matter."

"Well, it's funny you mention. I have had a crush on Katniss since I was 5 years old. She probably doesn't even know I exist but I have watched her from afar hoping that one day she will notice me. I know she won't though; she hangs out with this guy named Gale. There are rumors that they will get married someday. So, my feelings for her don't matter. She will never return my affection"

"Ok, stop right there. We could use that to your advantage. The audience will love it. I can see it now: _The Star-crossed lovers from District 12. _It's perfect," I say. I hate this idea. No sponsors for this kid. I guess I am just protective of Katniss. He is using her as a pawn so he can win. I try to tell myself that this is the reason for my sudden dislike for the boy but I know that it isn't the real reason. Maybe part of it, but not entirely. I'm not sure what the reason is, but I think it is more than just feeling protective of Katniss. But, then again, maybe this will help Katniss survive. God knows she needs all the help she can get. And if this boy can help, then that is something that I should be happy about. But I'm not. He's going to mess with her head and distract her. If she is distracted and worrying about this stupid kid she won't be focused on staying alive. She will be vulnerable and off guard. However, it is the best chance she has at getting sponsors. I may not like it, but I need to play along and milk this for all it's worth and put my feelings, whatever they are, aside. I need to do this for her.

"So, what should I say?" I barely hear Peeta because I am so wrapped up in my own thoughts about Katniss that I have tuned everything else out.

"Oh, yeah…what you should say. Ummm… say just what you said to me and whatever else you think will pull the heartstrings of the audience. Well, I'd say you don't need my advice. You have this under control. You still couldn't do better than me, but almost."

"Yeah, I wouldn't even try. I know I'm no match for you. Well, see you this evening?"

"Yeah, sure. Off you go then, kid."

**AN: I hope you haven't forgotten about me. I know it's been a while. In case you didn't know, I have another story, "Not Totally Alone," that I updated recently. If you like this story, then maybe you'll like that one as well. I would love to hear from you guys. Please review if you like my stories and want me to update soon. My break is almost over and I might update again if I have some encouragement. J Hope you liked this chapter. As always, a special thanks to all my followers, reviewers, faithful readers, and those who have added me to their list of favorite authors. You guys are great! Sorry for any grammatical errors.**


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